


Love & a Park Bench

by OAI



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Past Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAI/pseuds/OAI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's the simple things that mean the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love & a Park Bench

**Author's Note:**

> This may, quite possibly, start off a series of related one shots; I’ll see how it goes.

[](http://imgur.com/Su0uOj4)

The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, lighting up the surrounding trees and grass. The bench, thankfully, is shaded from the glare off the pond when the water shifts, disturbed by the gentle breeze and the swimming of the ducks.

She stares out over the water, taking in the serenity of scene and sighs. This is what perfect days are made of. The kind of day you share with a loved one, curled up on a park bench. Not the sort of day to find yourself alone.

"Well, this is different." The sudden intrusion surprises her for only a moment. His voice triggers so many old memories and a sad, soft smile curls her lips. It's an old game between them, one she’s not played in years.

"Good different, or bad different?" Turning to look at him; he's wearing that same old suit, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes bright - just as she remembers.

"Just different." Even if she couldn’t see it, she’d be able to hear that mile wide grin as he plops down on the vacant end of the bench. It's the same, that look. Just like the one from a universe away. Her own smile cracks the corners of her wrinkled face, wistfully remembering a time when nothing seemed impossible.

"How’d it happen?" It’s really more of a demand than a question and the seriousness of his tone pulls her abruptly back to the here and now. He's leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees, one eyebrow raised, all good humor gone. Goodness, it's been a while since she's had to deal with his sudden mood swings.

She sighs, twisting the ring on her finger.

"Doesn’t really matter, does it. It happened." She’s seems to have only gotten more stubborn with age. Not much patience left in her for staring matches now, either.

"I suppose." It difficult even now for her to watch him swallow his pain, eyes closing and jaw clenching. If not for the fact explaining it would only make it worse, she’d probably give in. She hardly sees him anymore though, no need to ruin this rare moment more than necessary.

She's damn sure he wants to demand answers, but she also knows he won't - not after everything that's happened. Unsurprisingly, he asks a question instead.

"Any particular reason behind this?" He's got himself under control again, mostly, gesturing vaguely at her. She knows precisely what he means. Frankly though, she wishes he'd been demanding instead, then at least they could have had good row. This though, this just makes her want to take page from his old book and run.

She just sit quietly instead, no plans to voice her reasons. She's spent far too much time denying it over the years. She twists her gnarled hands, avoiding his eyes, the light glancing off the gold of the ring.

What is the point in answering him now? It won't change anything. All it can do is hurt them both. Best to ignore it; push away the pain to where it can't do them any harm. They both have enough experience to do that effectively enough.

A warm hand covers hers, stopping the movement. He slides closer, lifting her chin with his other hand when she refuses to look at him.

" _Rose_."

Why does he have to say it like that? As if her name is a whole language in itself. As though it could be used to unlock the mysteries of the universe. His eyes are pleading and she hates him, just a little bit, for doing this to her - for making her understand.

The words are out before she can stop them.

"I never got to grow old with you."

His lip trembles, eyes gone red and she ducks her head, one hand pressed to her lips. She feels him pull on her other hand, cradling it to his chest and pressing a kiss to her knobbled knuckles, his breath brushing her skin. "I'm _sorry._ "

"Don't you _dare_!" she snaps as his voice breaks, glaring. It reminds her starkly of the day they found out they couldn't last. The day they had found out _together_ had only ever been _for as long as we’ve got_. "I made you a damn promise and I don't regret a day of it." Wrinkled hand grabbing his tie with surprising speed. Nose to nose, her eyes flashing as they had in youth. " _Not. One. Day_."

His eyes close, a reverent smile quirking his lips. " _There's_ my Rose."

She huffs, releasing his tie. "You know better than I do how this works." Crossing her arms. "New body, new personality, new quirks, same memories - _same person_."

"Too right." Settling back on the bench, adjusting the tie, good humor returned.

"So what, if I wanted to be old this time around." She sniffs, "Got tired of all those young blokes chasing after me. I'm a hundred and eight, for goodness sake."

"So you traded in tights pants for pastel cardigans?" The mirth in his voice would be irritating, if it wasn't making her smile too. "All to get rid of suitors across time and space?"

"The cheek on you!" she chuckles. "I'm a married woman, you know." Returning his grin. It's not quite the same, this body doesn’t smile easily, but it's still so very them.

He takes her hand and she entwines there fingers. The silence only lasts a moment; not too surprising with him around.

"You know, I don't expect you to continue on alone, right?" Her eyebrows raise, uncertain. He looks down at their clasped hands, fiddling with the ring that matches his own. "It's just, that kind of life - the traveling - it's always better with two." Her eyes soften.

"True." The little smile he gives her makes her hearts ache. "Not yet though." Squeezing his hand. "One day." He bobs his head, more than willing to acquiesce.

"This was a fantasy of mine, you know." Changing the subject, another tradition of theirs.

"What?" Of course, it only ever works because they both want it too. So good at avoiding, the pair of them.

"This." She lifts their hands, nodding at the surrounding park. "Us. Old and feeble, but still together, sitting on park benches." Adding, "In between saving the universe, of course."

"Of course." A chuckle. "I would have like that too."

His voice has changed, slower, dryer, more wistful, and she turns. He's back to the way he had been - the way he should be - when she last held him. Wrinkled with so many laugh lines and hair so gray it's practically silver. With his liver spots and that slight belly he always steadfastly denied having.

Looking at their hands, she smiles. The finally match again. Both wrinkled and spotted with age - just the way it should have been.

Shifting, pulling her hand away to slide it behind his back, snuggling into his side. Adjusting, he wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer. The gold of his ring catching light as he takes her other hand, holding it in his lap.

"Ah," he sighs, "that's better." Resting his head against hers.

"Much." Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, settling.

They sit there, together, enjoying the sound of the wind whispering through the trees, watching the animals moving about. The day - finally - perfect.

 

00000000000000000000000000

 

When she wakes, she knows she's slept for three hours exactly. It used to surprise her, that she could feel so rested on so little sleep, especially considering her tendency to kip on the jump seat. The TARDIS hums to her, as she stretches.

"Thank you." Caressing the time rotor, she smiles. "That was a lovely dream."

 

( _Fin_ )


End file.
